A FAMOUS CAVALRY CHARGE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1061, 30 June 1892, Page 10

A FAMOUS CAVALRY CHARGE.

Mr J. W. Wightman, Secretary of the Balaclava Commemoration Society, gives in the Nineteenth Century an interesting account of the famous charge of the Light Brigade and of his subsequent captivity in Russia. ‘ I cannot call to mind seeing Lord Lucan come to the front of the Light Brigade and speak with Lord Cardigan, although of course I know now that he did so. But I distinctly remember that Nolan returned to the brigade, and his having a mere momentary talk with Cardigan, at the close of which he drew his sword with a flourish, as if greatly excited. The blood came into his face—l seem to see him now ; and then he fell back a little -way into Cardigan, s left rear, somewhat in front of and to the right of Captain Morris, who had taken post in front of liis own. left squadron. And T remember as il it were but yesterday Jardigan’s figure and attitude, as he

faced the brigade, and in his strong hoarse voice gave the momentous word of command, ‘ The brigade will advance 1 First squadron of. 17 th Lancers direct!’ We had ridden barely two hundred yards and were still at the trot, when poor Nolan’s fate came to him. I did not see him cross Cardigan’s front, but I did see the shell explode, of which a fragment struck him. From his raised sword-hand dropped the sword, but the arm remained erect. Kingslake writes that * what had once been Nolan maintained the strong military seat until the ‘ erect foi’in dropped out of the saddle but this was . nob so. The sword-arm indeed remained upraised and rigid, buc all the other limbs so curled in on the contorted trunk as by a spasm, that we wondered how for the moment the huddled form kept the saddle. It was the sudden convulsive twitch of the bridle hand inward on the chest that caused the charger to wheel rearward so abruptly. The weird shriek and the awful face as rider and horse disappeared haunt me now to this day, the first horror of that ride of honors. As the line at the trumpet sound broke from the trot into the gallop,

Lord Cardigan, almost directly behind whom I rode, turned his head leftward toward Captain Morris and shouted hoarsely, ‘Steady, steady, Captain Morris !’ The injunction was no doubt pointed specially at the latter, because he, commanding the regiment one of the squadrons of which had been named to direct, was held in a manner responsible to the brigade commander for both the pace and direction of the whole line. Later, when we were in the midst of our torture, and, mad to be out of it and have our revenge, were forcing the pace, I heard again, high above the turmoil and din, Cai-digan’s sonorous command, ‘Steady, steady, the 17th Lancers!’ and heard him cheek with oub.itretched sword Captain White, my squadron leader, as he shot forward abreast of the stern disciplined chief leading the brigade. But, resolute man though he was, the time had come when neither the commands nor the example of Cardigan availed to restrain the pace of his brigade ; and when to maintain his position in advance, indeed, if he were to escape being ridden down, he had to let his charger out from the gallop to the charge. For hell had opened upon us from front and either flank, and it kept open upon us during the minutes —they seemed hours—which passed while we traversed the mile and a quarter at the end of which was the enemy. Wb had not broke into the charging pace when poor old J ohn Lee, my l’ight-liand man on the flank of the regiment, was all but smashed by a

shell; he gave my arm a twitch, as with a strange smile on his worn old face ho quietly said, ‘Domino ! chum,’ and fell out of the saddle. His old grey mare kept alongside of me for some distance, treading on and tearing out her entrails as she galloped, till at length she dropped with a strange shriek. I have mentioned that my comrade, Peter Marsh, was my lefthand man; next beyond him was Private Dudley. The explosion of a shell had swept down four or five men on Dudley’s left, and I heard him ask Marsh if he had noticed ‘ what a hole that b shell had made ’ on his left front. ‘ Hold your foul-mouthed tongue,’ answered Peter, ‘ swearing like a blackguard, when you may be knocked into eternity next minute ! Just then I got a musket-bullet through ray right knee, and another in the shin, and my horse had three bullet wounds in the neck. Man and horse were bleeding so fast that Marsh begged me to fall out; but I would not, pointing out that in a few minutes we must be into them, and so I sent my spurs well home, and faced it out with my comrades. It was about this time that Sergeant Talbot had his head clean carried off by a round shot, yet for about thirty yards further the headless body kept the saddle, the lance at the charge firmly gripped under the right arm. Well, we were nearly out of it at last, and close on those cursed guns Cardigan was still straight in front of me, steady as a church, but now his sword was in the air, he turned in his saddle for an instant, and shouted his final command, ‘ Steady, steady. Close in !’ Immediately afterwai’ds there crashed into us a regular volley from the Russian cannon. I saw Captain White go down and Cardigan disappear into the smoke. A moment more and I was within it myself. A shell burst ri»hfc over my head with a hellish crash that all but stunned me. Irame-

diately after I felt ray horse under me take a tremendous leap into the air. What he jumped I never saw or knew ; the smoke was so thick I could nob see my arm’s length around me. Through the dense veil I heard noises of fighting and slaughter, but saw no obstacle, no adversary, no gun or gunner, and, in short, was through and beyond the Russian battery before I knew for certain that I had reached it. I then found that none of my comrades were close to me ; there was no longer any semblance of a line. No man of the Lancers was on my right, a group was a little way on my left. Lord Cardigan must have increased his distance during or after passing through the battery, for I now saw him some way ahead, alone in the midst of a knot of Cossacks. At this moment Lieutenant

Maxse, his lordship’s aide-de camp, came back out of the tussle, and crossed my front as I was riding forward. I saw that he was badly wounded, and he called to me, ‘ For God’s sake, Lancer, don't ride over me ! See where Lord Cardigan is,’ pointing to him, ‘ rally on him !’ I was hurrying on. to support the brigade commander, when a Cossack came at me and sent his lance into my right thigh. J went for him, but he bolted ; I overtook him, drove my lance into his baek and unhorsed him just in front of two Russian guns which were in possession of Sergeant-Majors Lincoln and Smith, of the 13th Light Dragoons, and other men of the brigade. When pursuing the Cossack I noticed Colonel Mayo deal very cleverly with a big Russian cavalry officer. He tipped off his shako with the point of his sword, and then laid his head right open with the old cut seven.

The chase of my Cossack had diverted me from rallying on Lord Cardigan ; he was now nowhere to be seen, nor did I ever again set eyes on the chief who had led us down the valley so grandly. The handful with the guns, to which I momentarily attached myself, were presently outnumbered and overpowered, the two sergeant-majors being taken prisoners, having been dismounted. I then rode towards Private Samuel Parkes, of the 4th Light Dragoons, who, supporting with one arm the wounded trumpetmajor (Crawford) of his regiment, was with the other cutting and slashing: at the enemies surrounding them. . I struck in to aid the gallant fellow, who was nob overpowered until his sword was shot away, when he and the trumpet-major were taken prisoners, and it was with difficulty I was able to cub my way out. Presently there joined me two other men, Mustard of my own corps, and Fletcher, of the 4th Light Dragoons. We forced our way through ring after ring of enemies, fell in with my comrade Peter Marsh, and rode rearward, breaking through party after party of Cossacks, until we heard the familiar voice of Corjooral Morley, of our regiment, a great rough, bellowing Nottingham man. He had lost his lance and hat, and his long hair was flying out in the wind as he roared, * Coom ’ere ! coom ’ere ! Fall in, lads, fall in !’ Well, with shouts and oaths he had collected some twenty troopers of

various regiments. We fell in with the handful this man of the hour had rallied to him, and there joined us also under his leadership Sergeant-Major Ransom and Private John Penn, of the 17th. Penn, a tough old warrior, who had served with the 3rd Light in the Sikh war, had killed a Russian officer, dismounted, and with great deliberation accoutred himself with the belt and sword of the defunct, in which he great show. A body of Russian Hussars blocked our way. Morley, roai'ing Nottingham oaths by way of encoui’agement, led us straight at them, and we went through and out at the other side as if they had been made of tinsel paper. As we rode up the valley, pursued by some Hussars and Cossacks, my horse was wounded by a bullet in the shoulder, and I had hard work to put the poor beast along. Presently we were abreast of the Infantry who had blazed into our right as e went down ; and we had to take their fire again, this time on our left. Their firing was very impartial ; their own Hussars and Cossacks following close on us suffered from it as well as we. Nob many of Corporal Morley’s party got back. My horse was shot dead, riddled with bullets. One bullet struck me on tbe forehead, another passed through the top of my shoulder ; while struggling out from under my dead horse a Cossack standing over me stabbed me with his lance once in the neck near the jugular, again above the collar-bone, several times in the back, and once

under the short rib ; and when, having regained my feet, I was trying to draw my sword, he sent his lance through the palm of my hand. I believe he would have succeeded in killing me, clumsy as he was, if I had nob blinded him for the moment with a handful of sand. Fletcher at the same time lost his horse, and, it seems, was wounded. We were very roughly used. The Cossacks at first hauled us along by the tails of our coatees and our haversacks. When we got on foot they drove their lance-butts into our backs to stir us on.

The writer here describes how, when they reached the Tchernaya, unlike the Cossacks, their Russian captors treated them with kindness and consideration, and then describes the following dramatic scene : —‘ About four the same afternoon,’ he continues, when we were all very stiff and sore, General Liprandi, the Russian commander, was so good as to pay us a visit. He was very pleasant, and spoke excellent English. “ Come now, men,” he asked, “ what did they give you to drink ? Did they not prime you with spirits to come down and attack us in such a mad manner?” William Kirk, of the 17th Lancers, an unwounded prisoner who had lost his horse, was leaning against the door when Liprandi spoke. He had been punishing the Russian vodki a bit, and he stepped up to the General and said, “ You think we were drunk ? By God, I tell you that if we had so much as smelt the barrel, we would have taken half Russia by this time !” Liprandi looked at him with a smile and remarked quite humorously, “ Indeed, then to be sure, we should have had but a poor chance !” Sergeant-Major Fowler, of the 4th Light Dragoons, had been run through the back by a Cossack lance, and was

sitting in a corner. He was a fine, dignified soldier, a gentleman born, I believe, and one of the handsomest men in the Light Brigade. To give more room in the carts to his comrades, he walked every step of the fifty miles to Simferopol ; his wound mortified, and he died within a week after his capture. Raising himself with great pain and difficulty, for his wound had stiffened, he stood upright and severely checked Kirk for his impertinent forwardness ; then coming smartly to “ attention ” before Liprandi and saluting the General, he said with great earnestness : “On my honour, sir, except for the vodki that your men have given to some of them, there is not a man of us who has tasted food or drink this day. We left camp before daylight, and were continuously in the field until we became prisoners of war. Our uncooked rations are still in our haversacks. Our daily issue of a mouthful of rum is made in the afternoon, and, believe me, sir, we don't hoard it. I wish all the men who have gone to their account this day were as free of sin as they were of drink !” Liprandi was moved. “ You are noble fellows, and I am sincerely sorry for you. I will order you some vodki, and I will send you also some pens, ink, and paper, for some of you have parents, wives, or sweethearts; so write and tell them that they can rely on your being well treated !”